Jessie
by TheLaikynVictoria
Summary: Shawn has a secret, and it's gonna blow your mind. NO SLASH. SENSITIVE MATERIAL. See A/N.
1. Part 1

_A/N-  
>This is a story about 911. Ten years and one day ago, thousands of people died at the hands of a malicious act of terrorism, and the lives lost and affected will forever be in my heart.  
>This is a work of fiction based on real facts. It will contain death, and it will contain a lot of sadness.<em>

_This will be a two, MAYBE three, shot. Enjoy, and please review. :)_

_Also, I am holding a contest on my facebook page! Go 'like' it an go to the notes section for information. :)_

_facebook.c0m/laikynp_  
><em>(replace 'c0m' with 'com')<em>

* * *

><p><strong><em>August 20th, 2001<em>**

Shawn Spencer exited his small apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind him.  
>He was on a mission.<br>The night before, he'd been thinking of his childhood; reminiscing, really, and he had recalled the time he was absolutely positive that he wanted to be a fireman. He remembered how crushed he'd been when his father vehemently refused to allow him to be one, claiming, again, that he was to be a policeman.  
>This is precisely why he was now walking into the Broad Channel Volunteer Fire Department in Queens, New York City (which is where he currently resided). He entered and looked around for someone who looked to be in charge. He was about to walk towards the offices, when someone approached him.<p>

"Can I help you with something?" Shawn turned around to see, he assumed, the fire chief.

"Yes, you can." He nodded. "I'd like to become a volunteer fireman."

**_Ten Years (and a couple odd weeks) Later_**

Shawn awoke around 7:30 AM that morning. He almost just rolled back over and fell back asleep until he remembered what day it was. He laid on his back and sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't particularly enjoy this day. Nothing about it was good for him. He contemplated staying in bed all day, though he knew he wouldn't sleep. He did stay there for quite a while, though, thinking; remembering. He finally got out of bed when Gus had called him seventeen times, leaving not-so-pleasant messages on his phone. Shawn had purposely been avoiding him because he didn't want to go to a 9/11 memorial museum with him. But, he had promised because Gus had done a huge favor for him the week before. So he reluctantly got dressed, spiked his hair into the perfection he always had it at and walked out the front door of his dry cleaners apartment, and straddled his Norton. He had texted Gus to let him know he was on his way. They were to meet at the Psych office and drive to the memorial in the Blueberry.

Ten minutes later, they were on the way, and Gus tried not to notice that Shawn was uncharacteristically quiet the entire ride there.

**_August 31st, 2001_**

"Mr. Spencer, you have just beat the department record for fastest-learning trainee." Chief Reynolds slapped his hand on Shawn's shoulder with a grin. "Congratulations. Starting tomorrow, you can start going out on fires with the crew."

"It's an honor, Sir." Shawn nodded, proud of himself. Sure, he'd come into this purely to spite his father, but now that he was there, experiencing the camaraderie with the fellow firefighters, and the atmosphere of just...Wanting to help.  
>He knows that he likes it here.<br>He knows that he likes helping people.  
>So the next day, September 1st, he went out on his first fire. Sure, all he did was hold an empty hose, but he was there, and it felt great. His fellow firefighters battled a small house fire, putting it out before too much damage was could be caused. No one was hurt, and it was a job well done. And he loved it. Over the course of the next week, he did more and more at the fires they went on. He'd even saved an elderly woman's life when she was stuck in the stairway of an apartment building that had caught fire. He had never felt more satisfied with where he was in life.<p>

And then one day, an early Tuesday morning about two weeks later, everything changed.

**_Present_**

"Gus, do we _have_ to go here?" Shawn sighed as they pulled into the parking lot of the convention center where the memorial had been set up.

"Shawn, I know that you're not one for education," Gus snided, "but have some patriotism. A lot of people died that day, and it's up to us, the survivors, to show our respect."  
>Shawn just shook his head and folded his arms as they entered. He had to admit, the place was pretty amazing. It was a traveling memorial, moving from city to city the entire week of the 11th. There were large, clear (see-through) structures with crystal-white writing on them, displaying the names of all the victims. There were pictures all over the place, some were enlarged to be nearly fifty feet tall.<p>

Shawn hadn't told anyone where he was and what he did ten years ago today, so how was he supposed to tell Gus that the reason he didn't want to be here was because he still had nightmares? That he was still on anti-depressants, and still saw a therapist every week. The he nearly died ten years ago.

_**September 11th, 2001**  
>8:50 AM<em>

"What?" Shawn exclaimed, rushing down the stairs of the firehouse behind Warren Johnson, a fellow firefighter. "How in the world did this happen?"

"I don't know, Man, but they said that they could use all the help they could get." Johnson replied as they, along with the rest of the crew, started gearing up.  
>"Was it an accident?" Shawn asked, putting his helmet on last, and boarding the truck with the others. "I mean, it doesn't make any sense."<p>

"What if it was on purpose?" Terrance Ingleman, the fire lieutenant of the station. "I mean, the pilot would had to have been pretty deranged to just fly a plane into the world trade center."

"Let's just get there, eh?" Reynolds interrupted the conversation, feeling worry settle into the pit of his stomach.

They arrived at the site in a record time, in just eight minutes. So at two 'till nine AM, the Broad Channel crew approached the towers. Debris was floating down from 1 WTC and thick grey smoke was billowing from the impact site.

"I can't believe it." Shawn stated, and his colleagues nodded in understanding. This was no doubt one of the worst things they've ever encountered. Somewhere, over all the noise, church bells rang, signaling that it was now nine AM.

"What are we doing?" Johnson yelled to Shawn, trying to get over the sirens and the screaming.

"I don't know," Shawn shrugged. "We gotta wait for orders from Reynolds."

The aforementioned was talking with the FDNY fire chief about procedures, when a loud whirring was suddenly heard above them. Shawn saw and heard it before everyone else, and he muttered an,  
>"oh my God," just before everyone else realized what it was.<br>A plane suddenly flew over them, and crashed into the south tower, 2 WTC, a little lower than the other one had on the opposite tower.

Screaming. That's all Shawn could hear, was screaming. People were panicked and horrified and terrified.

"My husband is on the 90th floor!" He heard a woman scream.

"My son was told that they didn't need to evacuate! How could this happen!"

"Oh my God, is that person jumping?"

Shawn looked up at this one. Sure enough, there was a person hanging out of a window high up, maybe the 80th floor, of the south tower. The man was waving an American flag, and you could almost see him pause, despite him being that high up, before he let himself fall out. It's like watching a train wreck; you want to look away, but you just can't. Shawn didn't see where the man landed, but the sound of his body hitting the concrete will always be in his mind, even if he didn't have the eidetic memory.

"We're going to start evacuating the north tower!" Reynolds approached the crew. "Get as close to the impact site as you can and get everyone out. Go, go, go!"

**_Present_**

"Shawn, look at this one." Gus breathed, approaching a 45-foot-tall picture of a fireman standing with his back turned to the camera, facing the towers that were on fire and smoking. He'd seen the picture floating around the internet, before. Of course, no one knew that it was him.

"Yeah, nice." He mumbled. He could feel his anxiety returning. The same anxiety he got every day for a year, and then on the anniversary every year until 2008. It slowly got better as time wore on, but being here, in the midst of the thing, he almost felt claustrophobic.

"Shawn, what is your problem?" Gus asked him exasperatedly. "Why are you so against this?"  
>But he ignored him, instead looking somewhere over his shoulder, focusing on something that he couldn't believe. A woman, probably around their age, was fixing a picture on to a small shelf provided for people to put their own effects.<p>

"Oh my God..." He stated, slowly walking toward it. Gus followed behind, extremely annoyed by his behavior. But then he saw what Shawn had been looking at.

"Shawn, that...Looks like you!" He exclaimed, studying the picture. It was a portrait of a firefighter.  
>The woman turned around and froze, staring at Shawn.<p>

"It _is_you." She breathed. "I had searched your name, and I found you but I wasn't sure because your hair was longer, but...I knew it was you."

"Shawn, what is she talking about?" Gus asked him, completely bumfuzzled, now.

"I..I.." Shawn stuttered, looking at the woman. "You're...Jessie."

**_September 11th, 2001_ **_  
>10:05 AM<em>

"Come on guys, pull out, pull out!" Reynolds was motioning his crew and yelling over the noise. "We've gotta go, let's go!"  
>The Broad Channel crew was in a stairwell somewhere between the 18th and 17th floors, making sure people get out. They started down the stairs; not exactly an easy task with all their gear. (Not to mention the fact that they'd already been up sixty floors, and back down to where they were)<p>

As they were going, right around the eleventh floor, Shawn paused. The rest of the crew continued on, not realizing that Shawn had stopped. He strained to listen, and he heard muffled cries coming from behind the metal door that opened to the offices on the eleventh floor. He went toward it and yanked it open, surveying the inside. It was lightly laden in smoke; not anywhere near as bad as it had been on say, the 50th floor.

"Spencer! What do you think your doing?" Came a garbled Reynolds over his radio.  
>"It's okay, I'll be out in just a minute." Shawn replied. "I'm right behind you, but there's someone still in here. I'm right behind you."<p>

He entered the office and looked around, seeing no one. Had he been hearing things? No, there it was again. Crying, only this time, it wasn't muffled.

"Help!" He looked around and finally, spotted a woman lying on the ground. Her ankle was obviously injured, bruised and swollen. He ran over to her and helped her to stand.

"I didn't know what was going on." She stated. "I was trampled when everyone started evacuating. I was unconscious for a while, and then when I came to, I was alone!"

"It's okay, we're gonna get out of here." Shawn told her, picking her up bridal-style. "You'll be safe."

"Did the other tower collapse?" She asked him, and he only nodded in reply. He got back out to the stairwell and started down. It proved much more difficult now that he was carrying another person. It took him nearly two minutes to get down one flight of stairs. Twenty minutes later and he was just starting on the stairs to go down to the second floor. Almost there. While on these stairs, he shrugged out of his jacket carefully and placed it over the woman, who he had now learned was named Jessie.

"The smoke is bad down here." He told her. "Keep it over your face."  
>He thought they were clear, but a few minutes later, the ground started rumbling and Shawn heard something unmistakable.<p>

The building was starting to collapse.

He had just made it to the ground floor, and he took off sprinting toward the doors. He heard a '_bam, bam, bam, bam_' of each level of the building smashing into each other as it fell. It felt like time was moving in slow-motion, even if it _had_ actually only taken about fifteen seconds to collapse. He had made it outside before the actual collapse caught up to them. It felt like an explosion, though it wasn't. Shawn and Jessie were thrown forward, landing on the concrete and debris. Jessie was immediately unconscious, but Shawn wasn't. He was a little disoriented, but not unconscious. He haphazardly reached up and took his helmet off, and placed it on her head, knowing that more debris would be falling.

* * *

><p>No one saw where they came from, but a lone fireman carrying a 20-something female emerged from the smoke. The fireman was sorely unprotected, having apparently given his jacket and helmet to the woman he carried. He was obviously disoriented as he looked around, presumably for a paramedic. Luckily, one had just finished with someone else, so he approached them.<p>

"Her name is Jessie York." The fireman told him as he handed her off. "Sh-she's twenty-two. Her ankle is broken and she probably has a head injury. I'm not sure of anything else."

"Are you okay, Sir?" The paramedic asked him hurriedly, and the fireman nodded his head, though he obviously wasn't okay. He merely walked away, back into the smoke.

_**Present**_

"Shawn Spencer." The woman smiled up at him, elated. "I don't know if I should hug you, or if that would be weird..."

"_What_is going on?" Gus asked, looking between the two. Shawn looked over at the display and saw his helmet and jacket, along with the picture.

"I never knew what happened to you." He whispered.

"Well," Jessie shook her head. "I was told you were dead."

**_February 18th, 2011_**

Jessie York entered the Broad Channel fire department, nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach. She approached a fireman who was cleaning one of the engines.

"Excuse me," she stated, "is anyone still here that was there at 9/11?"

The man furrowed his brow,  
>"there are a few men, including the chief." He told her. "Why?"<p>

Jessie held up the jacket and helmet she held in her hands,  
>"one of the men here saved my life that day."<p>

Ten minutes later, Jessie was in the Chief's office, sitting across from him.

"Why are you just now here?" He asked her, taking the helmet that she was reaching toward him.

"I was in a coma for about four years afterward." She told him. "Then was in extensive physical therapy until a few months ago."

The chief looked down at the helmet and immediately knew who's it was.

"Can you tell me who saved me?" She asked him, and he stood, motioning for her to follow. They exited the office and went to the main room of the firehouse. They approached a small shrine, of sorts, that hung on one wall.

"Shawn Spencer." The chief stated. "He was a rookie, but he was one of the finest men this department had ever seen."

"Shawn Spencer." Jessie repeated in a whisper, staring at the picture. It was him. Even though her memories from that day were foggy, there was no mistaking his eyes. His bright, green eyes.

"We were descending the stairs in the North tower, when we realized that Shawn was no longer with us." The chief continued. "I radioed him, and he said that a there was someone still up there, and that'd he'd be right out. There wasn't much I could do, so we got outside and waited."

"And..And then the tower collapsed." Jessie nodded. "I remember that. We had just got outside the doors when it came down around us. He had put his helmet and jacket on me, so I'd be safe." She was crying now, and the chief placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We never found him." He told her softly. "I wish every day that I'd gone back up with him, but...Don't forget, that he died a hero."

"Does he have any family? Someone I can give these to?" She asked him, meaning the jacket and helmet.

"None that he informed us of." The chief shook his head. "We always tried to get out of him at least one family member, but he never told us anything."

"Wait..." Jessie realized something. "I-If you never found his body, then...There's a possibility that he's still alive, right?"

"Ma'am, that's almost impossible." He told her, shaking his head.

"Yes, _almost_." She emphasized.

"Ms. York, please..." The chief sighed. "Don't give yourself any false hope. It only makes everything worse." He reached over and took the picture of Shawn from the wall and handed it to her,  
>"here, you keep this." He told her. "Go home, and just...Be thankful. Okay?" Jessie merely nodded her head and mumbled a thanks, then left.<p>

No matter what that chief said, she refused to believe that that her hero was dead, until she had absolute proof.

**_Present_**

"Shawn, you were a firefighter?" Gus asked incredulously. "That's...That's crazy. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Gus, can I have a minute alone with her please?" Shawn asked, motioning at Jessie. Gus nodded with a sigh, and walked away, still in a shock.

"Jessie, I can't believe you're...Here." Shawn told her.

"I can't believe I found you." She replied. "Your fire chief said that you were dead. Though, I didn't exactly believe him."

"You saw Reynolds?" Shawn asked with a slight grin. "Did he tell ya a corny joke about a cow?"  
>Jessie laughed and shook her head,<br>"no, he was uhm...Surprised." She told him. "Apparently they thought that you died saving me."

"No, I collapsed a few minutes after handing you off to a paramedic." Shawn explained. "Someone found me and I was taken to a hospital. Since I didn't have my helmet, which had my badge on it, no one knew who I was. I was operated on-" Shawn pulled down the front of his shirt to display his long scar "-and then released. Even though I knew very well who I was, I never told anyone. What happened with you?"

"I had severe brain damage. I was in a coma for about four years afterward." She said, her eyes filling with tears. "I'd been in intense physical therapy until December of last year."

"Oh, gosh..." Shawn mumbled.

"I went to your fire department in February and spoke to the chief." She continued. "He explained everything, and told me your name. I searched you online and found stuff about this...Psychic Detective agency."

"Yeah." Shawn nodded. "That's me."

"I knew it was you, I was just afraid to get my hopes up," she sighed. "That's why it took me so long to get out here...I had to work up the courage. Then when I learned about this memorial, I decided to come and leave these things here...Well, leave them here at least until it moves on to the next city." She paused,  
>"why did you never tell anyone?"<p>

"I wanted to forget that day, Jessie." Shawn whispered. "I have an eidetic memory, and I remember literally everything I see, and I thought maybe if I put 9/11 as far out of my mind as possible, then I _would_forget about it, eventually."

"Yeah..." She nodded. "I understand that."

"Look, Jessie, I..I'm so happy that I know you're okay." Shawn told her. "And we should definitely exchange information so we can stay in touch, but..." He looked over at Gus, who was sitting on a bench, his hands clasped together in front of him. He was obviously just confused and probably a little hurt.

"But I have some explaining to do." He sighed. "To a lot of people."


	2. Part 2

**_A/N- Hey peoples! This part is a little bit shorter than the last, but there will be a third part! :D  
>Remember, I have a contest going on on my facebook page! So go 'like' it and head on over to the notes section for information! :D<br>facebook.c0m/laikynp  
>(replace 'c0m' with 'com')<em>**

Please review and whatnot. I'd love you forever. :D

* * *

><p><em>"Look, Jessie, I..I'm so happy that I know you're okay." Shawn told her. "And we should definitely exchange information so we can stay in touch, but..." He looked over at Gus, who was sitting on a bench, his hands clasped together in front of him. He was obviously just confused and probably a little hurt.<em>

_"But I have some explaining to do." He sighed. "To a lot of people."_

* * *

><p>"Gus..." Shawn approached his best friend and sat next to him hesitantly. "I guess I have a few things to tell you."<p>

"Yeah." Gus nodded. "You do."

"A little over ten years ago, I became a volunteer fireman." Shawn started. "I'd only been one for about three weeks before 9/11."

"Not very long." Gus mumbled.

"No, not at all."

Gus suddenly let out a snide laugh,

"that's how you knew stuff about firefighting on that arson case a couple years ago."

"...Arson-urderer." Shawn stated softly, grinning.

Gus shook his head, but he grinned, as well.

"Shawn, why did you never tell any of us?" He asked after a moment. "I mean, at least me. You can trust me, Shawn, you know that. I've been the _only_ person you could trust, no matter what, your entire life."

"I know, I know..." Shawn looked down at his hands, feeling a lump rise in throat. "Gus, you have no idea what it was like over there."

"You're right, I don't," Gus nodded, "but that doesn't mean I won't let you confide in me without judging you. That doesn't mean you needed to keep it a secret."

"Gus, I have this stupid _memory_ that makes me remember every, last, single thing I see!" Shawn exclaimed, turning to look at him. He was angry despite the tears in his eyes. "I saw a woman die, clutching her dead baby! I-I saw people jump from 80, 90 stories in the air because they'd rather die quickly than in the fires."

"Shawn-"

"I was _inside_ the north tower when it collapsed, Gus! I..I heard each level of the building hitting the next as it came down." Shawn kept going, by now standing and causing a scene. "Do you know how many people we evacuated, only to have them die when the first tower fell? Huh?"

"Shawn, I'm sorry." Gus apologized, though he wasn't sure exactly what for. Because Shawn had went through that? Because he felt bad for being perturbed with him?

"Gus, I saw so many people die that day. I could have died...I _should _have died!" He was slowly beginning to unwind. "I was in the tower, Man. I was in...The tower when...It collapsed."

"Shawn, it's okay."

"It's not okay." Shawn shook his head. "It'll never be okay."  
>Suddenly, Jessie worked her way through the crowd and approached Shawn, pausing only for a split second, before throwing her arms around his neck.<p>

"It's not okay that the terrorists did that." She told him. "But you saved my life, along with so many others. And that is more than okay."

And then, just like in movies, a slow clap started, turning into thunderous applause throughout the center.  
>Then, as if by some sort of miracle, the anxiety was gone.<p>

* * *

><p>Henry Spencer yawned as he entered the kitchen, flipping the TV on the counter on and then going toward the fridge. The news played in the background as he prepared a bowl of cereal.<p>

"A 9/11 hero, previously thought to have been killed in the attacks when the North Tower collapsed has resurfaced in Santa Barbara." The newscaster reported. "He was a volunteer fireman for Broad Channel Volunteer fire department in Queens. Against orders, he stayed behind in the North Tower to save a woman that no one else knew was there. At this point, they were only minutes away from the collapse.

"The name of this man might surprise you, as he has come to be a bit of a local celebrity. He is the head Psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department, Shawn Spencer."

Henry literally spit his mouthful of raisin bran cereal across the kitchen table and stared at the TV.

"The woman he nearly died saving? Her name is Jessie York. She was a receptionist at the bank she worked in on the eleventh floor of 1 WTC. During emergency evacuation, York was trampled by the crowd of people trying to exit the building. Her ankle was severely injured, leaving her unable to make it down the ten flights of stairs." The newscaster continued. By now, the portrait of Shawn in his fireman uniform had appeared on the screen. "Shawn Spencer heard her crying for help, when no one else did. He stayed behind and carried her down the ten flights of stairs. No one quite knows where exactly the two were when the tower collapsed, but fellow firemen from Broad Channel fire department state that Spencer had not exited the building by the time it did collapse."

Henry was honestly at a loss for words. This couldn't be possible, could it? No possible way.

"Due to severe brain damage, York was in a coma for four years following 9/11, and afterwards endured six years of intense physical therapy." The newscaster went on. "Shawn Spencer, as you know, now resides in Santa Barbara and continues to serve and protect the people through the Santa Barbara Police department."

"Talk about an unsung hero, Kim." The male newscaster sitting beside the first nodded his head as he straightened out papers on the desk in front of him. "Shawn Spencer is not a name you'll forget any time soon."

Even as it switched to commercials, Henry's eyes stayed glued to the television. The doorbell ringing brought him out of his daze, and he rose to answer it. As he walked, he felt the inevitable anger coming. How in the world could Shawn keep something like this from him?

When he opened the front door, he saw the very subject of his anger.

"You saw the news, didn't you?" Shawn asked at seeing his father's facial expression. "I can explain."

The seriousness and tone of voice Shawn had must have been enough for all of Henry's anger to disappear. He didn't say anything as he let Shawn enter. He followed him to the living room and sat on the couch opposite the armchair Shawn had sat in.

"What's goin' on, Shawn?" Henry asked after a moment of tense silence.

"It's hard to explain." He replied. "And a really long story."

Henry merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "I'm not going anywhere".

And then Shawn unloaded on his dad what he had unloaded on Gus (and an entire convention center full of people) the day before. By the time it was over, Shawn was crying and Henry, despite himself, was near the same.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Shawn finished, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I messed up in doing what I did, and-"

"You did _not_ mess up, Shawn." Henry interrupted him. "You didn't mess up. You did the best thing you could have done. You saved peoples lives, Son."

"I shouldn't have kept it from everyone." Shawn shrugged. "I don't even really know exactly why I did..."

"Shawn, you did the only thing you knew how to do." The elder Spencer leaned toward the younger. "You ran away from the pain, and that's not always a bad thing to do."

"That doesn't mean I should have done it." Shawn shook his head. "It doesn't make it right."

"There were probably things you could have done better." Henry nodded. "But we all make choices, Son, and these choices make up...Moments."

"Moments." Shawn whispered. After a few minutes of (comfortable) silence, he sighed,  
>"I'm going to New York next week. I think Gus is gonna go with me, if he can get off work. Jules wanted to, but she can't take that much time off."<p>

"Is there anything you need from me?" Henry asked hesitantly.

"No, it's fine..." Shawn shook his head. "Just...Thanks, Dad."

"No, problem, Shawn."


End file.
